by Virna DePaul
“Why not?”
“She seems to be pregnant. I think she’s looking for a new nest.”
“Sure, Socks can have this creation. I’m glad to have a reason to finish this thing.”
There was a pause. “When you do, could you make another one?” Iris asked.
“Why? Oh. You’re going to take a kitten.”
“Two, actually, so they can keep each other company.”
For a moment, Cara imagined having a cat waiting for her when she came home. It would be nice to cuddle with something warm-blooded for a change, but her building didn’t allow pets. “I wish I could take one,” she said.
“Yeah. We figure there will be between four and six.”
“We?”
“Me and the new guy upstairs.”
“I can hear you blushing, Iris. Louder than thunder.” And that was quite unusual for her friend. Iris got around, but a guy who could rattle her with kittens involved was a rare breed.
“Drop dead. I mean that in a good way.”
“Is he a new love interest?
“Sheesh. He moved in last week, Cara.” Another pause. “But he is cute.”
Cara smiled, liking the idea of a cute guy bringing some happiness to her friend’s life. “Keep me posted.”
“I will, I promise. So what’s going on with you and your new boss?”
“I showed him the photo.” Cara found herself unable to lie. She waited for a reply. “Iris? You still there?”
“Just picking myself up off the floor. Oh my God. What did he say?”
“He didn’t think it was anything to worry about. He didn’t seem to care at all.”
Iris pondered that. “Well, then you’re in the clear.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure about that. Anyway, he thinks Deets will drop it and he advised me to ignore it. Just for my own peace of mind, I’m keeping an eye on that website. They took the post down. And that one photo.”
“That one? You mean there are others?”
“Oh, God, I hope not.”
Iris cleared her throat. “Just between you and me, did anything else happen at that party?”
“No. I got kissed by a master kisser. After that, I got my ass home. End of story.”
“I want to believe that. I really do. Mind if I check Deets again?”
“Go ahead. I’m coming up on a purl.”
Faintly, she heard a keyboard being tapped, the rhythm almost identical to her knitting needles. Friends forever, clickety-click.
“They dropped the item. Completely. Nowhere to be found.”
“Good.”
“Maybe not. I wonder why.”
Iris tended to be a worrywart, for all her freewheeling ways. But then again, she knew how sites like Deets operated and Cara didn’t.
“Keep purling. I’m looking elsewhere.”
A minute or more passed.
“Cara. Oh my God. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes. Why?” Her heart sank. Just her luck. There had to be a second post that was somehow more incriminating than the first.
“I think you’re going to need that drink. I’m coming over.”
Chapter 7
It was a video on HotnSaucey. A video of Branden and a woman. He and the woman were half naked, stripped to the waist. They weren’t in a room, exactly. More like a space with blank walls. He faced the lens—when he wasn’t looking at the other participant, standing directly in front of him. All Cara could see of her was her back. Yellow hair that had been styled to scary straightness swung over her shoulders.
The woman didn’t approach Branden or touch him, but as the video progressed, Branden’s hands moved slowly toward his groin, and it didn’t take a genius to know the video was teasing at him getting himself off.
“That could be you,” Iris said as they both stared at her laptop screen.
“It’s not,” Cara said quickly.
“I mean,” Iris replied as if she were choosing her words very carefully, “that could be you if people wanted to think so. Like, if you were walking away from them.”
God, she was right, but as troubling as the thought was, Cara barely paid attention to the woman in the video. Instead, she drank in the sight of Branden: golden muscle broadening his chest and tapering to taut abs. The beginnings of the sexy lines that defined his groin on both sides of his torso were visible as he slid his hands lower and lower…
The video stopped. “Is that all?”
“The clip was a free download. I didn’t buy the complete tape because that would have involved sending my credit card information to some weird little country where they laugh at the law and the joke’s on you.”
The video began again, at the beginning. This time Cara studied his face as he stared at the woman, as if he wanted her to watch him. The hot gleam in his dark eyes was familiar, and so was the teasing, sensual half smile.
Once again, she felt that dreadful pang of jealousy, the same one she’d felt when she’d Googled Branden’s name and seen all those photos of him with beautiful women.
Cara trembled, on the verge of giving in to a nameless fear that rose within her. She stared at the frozen image, stunned and silent, unable to fight the feeling that someone had looked right through her, ransacked her mind, and hijacked her private fantasies. She could have been made of glass. About to shatter.
“Okay. Here’s what I think,” Iris began. “And I do have some media experience. That’s professional lighting. No harsh shadows, no glare reflections. Branden didn’t film this.”
Cara laughed bitterly. “Duh. He’s got his hands full.”
Iris snorted. “That’s one way of putting it. But this is definitely not a set-the-timer-and-hump amateur production. “
“If you say so.” Cara couldn’t take her eyes off her big, strong, bare-chested boss.
“And note how she stays at the edge of the shot.”
“She’s teasing him.”
“Exactly. It’s like she’s there to liven him up, get a reaction, make him less nervous—take your pick.”
“So what? You think Branden Duke shot soft core porn in another life?” she asked, unable to believe it, yet she couldn’t deny what she was looking at either. “And now someone is out to destroy his reputation? Maybe even mine?”
“It seems far fetched, I know, but…”
“But like you said, the women could be mistaken for me, if that’s what people wanted to believe,” Cara said softly. She covered her face with her hands, letting out a muffled groan. “If word gets around and anyone thinks that anonymous female is me, my financial career is toast. I’ll fight the good fight, of course I will, but I don’t want to. And even if I do, what if it doesn’t make a difference. What if I lose everything, Iris?”
Iris put a comforting hand on her arm. “HotnSaucey is mostly for freaks. You work with normal people, right?”
Cara let her hands drop into her lap. “I don’t know where you got that idea. If my co-workers see this”—Cara thought of Greg Johnson, specifically—“They’ll just scorch the servers forwarding it over and over.”
Iris did her best to comfort her, telling her that wouldn’t happen. She also told Cara not to follow the link to additional content that was underneath the video. “You’ll get a computer virus or worse. Just try to let it go for now and we’ll do more research tomorrow.” Cara told her she’d leave it alone, gave her friend a huge hug then was once again alone.
What the hell was she going to do? Should she even tell Branden about the video and her fear that it would be connected to her? Given the last thing they’d talked about was their mutual attraction, it would be so much better if she stayed away from him, but…
Shaking her head, Cara booted up her own laptop and brought up the HotnSaucey website. She wasn’t going to click on the additional content, but she’d copy the URL and email it to Branden. Despite the way they’d met and not knowing him very long, she couldn’t let him be blindsided.
The website
loaded slowly in fits and starts. And no matter how she searched, she saw no sign of the clip.
It was gone.
Chapter 8
“Is it done?” Branden was talking to one of his PR guys, an expert when it came to information online. The man could make things appear and disappear. He’d worked his magic with the photograph of Cara outside the mansion, and now he’d damn well do the same thing to that video.
After being assured that the video was as good as gone, Branden hung up the phone then slammed his laptop shut. Going outside and throwing it off the penthouse terrace was not an option, but it was a thought. He’d watched the clip several times, then downloaded it just in case his lawyers would want to have a look. Let them decide what to do. There’d be follow-up snark, but he wasn’t anticipating much of that.
It was him and it had happened, despite his protests to the contrary to Deena. He hadn’t instantly remembered doing it, but then he’d never seen the tape of the jeans-ad audition back in college. Nothing came of it. A check and a handshake, then thanks for your time, we’ll call you, next. Over and done with and forgotten long ago.
No telling who owned the rights to the footage by this time. He dimly remembered signing a release after it was all over. Someone had stumbled across the tape somehow and, by his guess, was looking to cash in, but how much could they make? He wasn’t that well known outside of New York, and as far as blackmail, forget it. There was no actual sex.
The sight of himself at that age, in that situation, took him back. He’d been young and hungry, that was for damn sure. He hadn’t modeled for long, never took it seriously, just did it on occasion for the money. Before the jeans ad, he’d landed a few squeaky-clean catalog shoots. He’d stood under hot lights in a striped polo and khakis, holding a brand-new football and smiling until his face hurt.
The jeans ad had been a bigger deal, part of a national campaign. They’d auditioned a slew of guys and eventually chosen a Swedish exchange student who’d been splashed all over Times Square billboards looking like he had a giant herring behind his denim fly.
HotnSaucey.com had nerve offering a full-length version of the brief audition as additional content. Didn’t exist. The featured clip was all there was, just over a minute, probably. But when Branden had purchased the entire video for sale, he’d discovered an erotic sex scene with two figures in a darkened room, their features blurry. The fact that the man bore a faint resemblance to him and the blonde bore a faint resemblance to Cara wouldn’t stand up to detailed scrutiny, but it could be enough to prolong any speculation that it was the two of them having sex.
Whether the dredged-up post was linked in any way to the Deets headline was impossible to say. Neither seemed worth an all-out investigative effort…but for Cara. He got the feeling she was a deeply private person who had been through some tough times. There was nothing in her personnel file, which was all he had to go on for the moment, to give him a clue as to her past.
Branden got up and moved around the coffee table to the high windows that comprised an entire wall, taking in the panoramic view of lower Manhattan, enjoying the display, which changed by the hour. Night had fallen, brightened by patterns of man-made light on the newer skyscrapers and a few of the older buildings. Some were not illuminated at all, black shapes in the overall darkness outside. He went outside, resting his hands on the railing of the wraparound terrace.
Cara’s place was only two buildings down, but even from this lofty height, he couldn’t see more than a sliver of it. Just knowing she was nearby made him want her all over again. Here, with him. High above the city and the never-ending hustle of the Street, lost in each other’s arms and the enfolding night. He wanted her in his bed most of all.
He normally didn’t worry or care about the press. They were hungry little vultures that would be picking bones long after he was gone. But he’d seen how upset Cara was over the photo, and now there was a video to contend with. It was one they both knew never happened, but he had a feeling if she’d seen it, she would be beside herself.
Branden looked at the time—it was almost nine p.m. He was worried about Cara, and he wondered if he should risk going by her place and checking on her. Since he didn’t know who was lurking around taking photos and splicing together videos, it was probably a bad idea.
He really didn’t want to alert her to the video if she didn’t know about it. But if she did know, he didn’t want her to spend a sleepless night worrying about it, either.
He decided to call, and if she didn’t seem to know about the video, he would ask her something about one of the reports she’d given him. He looked at the copy of the video he had saved one more time, then went to his bookshelf, took out an album one of his stepsisters—probably Rachel, she was always playing Suzy Homemaker—had put together for him years ago, and sat down on the couch, placing the album next to his laptop on the little table in front of him. He linked to the network that took him directly into the computer systems of all of the companies he owned and then into HR at Dubois & Mellan. Pulling up Cara’s mobile number, he entered it into his phone and hit send.
Three rings and then a tentative, “Hello?”
“Cara, it’s Branden.”
Silence.
Of course. She was surprised he’d call her at home. But had she—
“So you’ve seen it?” she asked, her voice shaky.
That answered the question. “I was hoping you hadn’t.”
“I have. Part of it anyway. The part that was a free download. My friend Iris found it and she… and I…”
“You’re concerned that people will think it’s you.”
“Yes. Is that crazy?”
“No. I’m going to send you a snapshot. Tell me what you notice about it.” He snapped a picture of a photo from the portfolio and texted her.
After several seconds she said, “Those are the same jeans…the same pose even. What is this from?”
“I did some modeling in college for extra cash. They took stills as well as a filmed audition for a jeans commercial. That’s all it was. Not a sex tape. Just a stupid ad. I was supposed to act sexy. You know, pump the pecs, tighten the abs, thumbs in the belt loops, push the jeans down—”
“I get the idea. So who was the girl?”
“I don’t remember her name and I never saw her again. I think she was a production assistant. She agreed to, you know, liven things up.”
“I see.”
“And they didn’t show any of us what they’d taped. Obviously, someone got hold of it, used it, then used different models in bad light to act out a steamy sex scene.”
“A steamy sex scene?” she screeched.
He winced. “You didn’t get that far?”
“Did it… I mean, would someone watching it think…”
“Someone could make the conclusion it was you and me, yes,” he said softly.
After a few second of silence, she responded. “How—how explicit was it?”
His silence was his answer.
“Oh, God. Why? Who?”
“I wish I knew. I have someone working on it. It should be gone soon if it isn’t already.”
“I think it is. But that doesn’t tell us who’s already seen it, who copied it and already posted it to another site, or why anyone would want to do this…”
“You’re right. I’ll do my best to find out for your peace of mind,” he told her.
“What about your own peace of mind? You’re not bothered by this at all?”
Two things about it bothered him. The seeming connection the photo and video had to his takeover of Dubois & Mellan, and the fact it bothered Cara so badly. He had to wonder if someone knew his true reason for purchasing the company, and if they did, how they’d found out. There was also something about Cara that brought out every protective fiber in his body, and her feeling bad had suddenly become equivalent to him having bad feelings of his own. That was a little disconcerting to him, since his sisters were the only women he’d ever r
eally felt that protective pull toward.
“I don’t really care what people think of me, Cara,” he told her at last.
“You can afford not to. I can’t. I don’t have millions to fall back on. My reputation is all I have.”
“This won’t affect your job, I promise,” he said.
“Maybe I won’t lose it because of this, but if it gets out that first photo was me and everyone assumes that the video is me…it will affect my credibility. Women already walk a tightrope on the Street, you know that. I didn’t intend to remain a financial analyst at a small firm forever. This could definitely get in the way of my moving up in my career.”
“I’m going to protect you on this, Cara. Trust me, okay?”
She didn’t say okay, she just thanked him weakly and ended the call.
He hung up with an overwhelming desire to go to her, put his arms around her, and chase all her fears away. He was smart enough to know that would probably only make things worse, so he stayed put, racking his brains over who would want to damage his reputation and harm Cara’s at the same time.
Chapter 9
The next morning, the first thing Cara noticed when she headed to her office at D&M was Gaunt was in the bullpen, leaning over Jackson Riley and jabbing a meaty finger at the computer screen as Jackson nodded seriously. Cara felt herself go pale. She squinted, trying to see what was on the display, then figured it couldn’t be her if those two looked so businesslike. She scuttled past the spot where the office manager would see her if he turned, finally reaching the relative safety of her office.
Coat off, purse stashed, she did a home-run dash to her swivel chair and touched a key, dreading what would pop up in her email. Thankfully, there were no further booby traps waiting for her.
